A Song Of Praise
by KoshIII
Summary: House and Wilson decide to start a relationship with each other...but House's emotional issues put up a roadblock. Written for a house fest prompt.


Title: A Song Of Praise

Author: KoshIII

Pairing or Category: House/Wilson

Rating: PG-13 – Pre-slash, but no actual funny business

Prompt: 98. House and Wilson get together for the first time, but House flinches away when Wilson touches him. He says he's just ticklish, but really he's not used to being touched. As this prompt is slightly inconsistent with canon, I modified it to being touched by men.

It had started innocently enough at lunch. House stole one of Wilson's french fries, as he had done countless times in the past. But this time, Wilson called him on it.

"You know, some would say that stealing my food is a sign of a secret crush on me, House." Wilson's eyebrows raised as he looked expectantly at House to deny his accusation and stop stealing his food. House didn't. Instead he challenged back.

"Some would say that _allowing_ me to steal your fries for the last fifteen years is a sign that you secretly _want_ me to have a crush on you." House stole yet another fry and held it out teasingly. "Do you?"

Wilson paused, trying to think of a comeback that would get House to shut up and also not make Wilson look like a fool. Racking his brain, he turned to look House in the eyes. What he saw shocked him. House now looked serious, and he was waiting for Wilson's response with an almost vulnerable stare.

"Do..._you_?" Wilson choked out.

House looked down, avoiding Wilson's gaze.

"Oh my God, you _do_, don't you!" Wilson exclaimed, at once filled with relief and a new feeling he couldn't quite identify.

House couldn't help blushing as he tried to deflect. "What person on earth could resist the charms of your perfectly knotted ties?" he mumbled.

Wilson just stared at House. House continued to look away. Finally, House broke the awkward silence. "Look, it's nothing. Forget about it. It doesn't have to change us – our thing. That we have. I mean, we can still hang out like we always have. I won't make a move on –"

House was interrupted by Wilson's hand, which had moved to cover his own. House looked down at their hands, unsure of what was going on. Wilson clarified.

"What if I don't want to forget about it?" he asked softly.

House wrenched his gaze away from Wilson's hand to finally meet his eye. Wilson appeared serious.

"What are we doing?" House asked.

"Nothing yet. But...I'd like to do more. If that's okay with you." Wilson looked to House for approval.

House nodded. "Come home right after work. We'll figure it out." Then, as abruptly as Wilson had started the conversation, House ended it. He got up, picked up his trash, hobbled over to the garbage, and left the cafeteria.

Now House was sitting at home, in the apartment the two already shared, waiting. Wilson was much more than a potential one-night stand. This could be the next – possibly the last – serious relationship in House's life. He heard a key scraping in the lock, and aimed the remote control at the t.v. to power it off. Watching the front door open, House made no move to get off the couch, only wiping his right palm on his jeans. Wilson stepped in and their eyes met. They stared into each others' eyes for a long moment, until House broke the trance.

"Aren't you going to come in?" he asked softly. Wilson stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He followed House to the couch, and they both sat down, unsure of how to proceed.

"Are you...sure about this?" asked House. Wilson nodded.

"House...how long have you felt this way about me?" Wilson asked tentatively. House hesitated before answering honestly.

"I've wanted you since I bailed you out in New Orleans. But I knew you were – knew you didn't – I mean, you were married, and even after you got divorced, you got married _again_...and again...how long have you felt this about _me_?" he asked, blue eyes looking at Wilson with several emotions storming through them. Wilson wasn't sure, but he thought the main one was fear. He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned forward and grabbed House's head gently from behind, moving in for a kiss. House flinched.

Wilson pulled back, confused. "I thought...I...."

"It's not you, it's me," House cut him off.

"What? Are you breaking _up_ with me? Already? We haven't even –"

"No!" House shouted. "That's not what I meant. I meant, that was my fault. Sorry. I'm...uh...ticklish."

Wilson blinked. "Ticklish? On your head?"

House looked away, starting to blush. Of all the scenarios that had run through his head that day, this had not been one of them.

"Okay. It's okay, House. Don't freak out. That's weird, but not like _really_ weird or anything. I just won't touch your head. Is there anywhere else you're ticklish?"

"Um...I'm not sure," House hedged. Wilson could tell there was something he wasn't saying, but had no idea how to push House. So he did the next best thing – he began to experiment. He began by laying a light hand on House's chest.

"Are you ticklish here?" he asked huskily. House looked at the hand uncomfortably as Wilson began to rub gently. After only a few seconds, House was squirming.

"Wilson, I – um, please, can we – uh, I don't – _stop_!" he cried, fidgeting and trying to move away from Wilson's touch. Wilson was beyond suspicious. This was not a reaction to simple tickling.

"What's going on, House?" Wilson demanded. He softened when he realized House was staring straight ahead, breathing heavily. "House?"

House took a few deep breaths, then shook his head. "It's nothing. I just...I'm not used to...being touched," he finally admitted.

Wilson furrowed his brow. What kind of bull was that? "You just had a massage in your office the other day."

House said nothing, just nodded. Wilson continued, "And what about Stacy? Don't tell me you lived five years with her without ever touching her?"

House shook his head. Despite Wilson's attempts to engage House in conversation, House wasn't taking the bait.

Wilson was beginning to get exasperated. "House, what the hell is going on?"

"I just...don't...I'm not used to being touched," he insisted again.

Wilson threw up his hands. "That's obviously not true! Lots of people touch you!"

House took in Wilson's growing frustration, flinching when the younger man's hands raised. "I'm sorry," he said, bringing his left leg up so that his knee was touching his chest, then slowly pulling his right leg with both hands to the same position. He wrapped his arms around his legs and sat in what passed for a fetal ball in a 6'2" man. His entire posture screamed _stay away_.

Wilson ignored the posture and the apology, and again leaned in to House, determined. This time he attempted to caress House's stubbly cheek with the palm of his hand. House again flinched away, almost panicking. "Please," he managed to breathe out as he pressed himself back into the couch, "just...stop...hold on...." He took a moment to catch his breath, then apologized once again. "I'm sorry." He couldn't meet Wilson's eyes.

The weight of House's posture and multiple apologies finally hit Wilson, and he held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. He backed away from House and sat in the chair opposite the couch. He watched as House squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply, desperately trying to regain control of himself.

Neither man said anything for a long moment.

"You're freaking out, House," Wilson began reluctantly. "You're freaking out because I'm touching you. You obviously don't want to do this."

House shook his head frantically. "That's not what's going on."

"You're _not_ freaking out?" Wilson asked dubiously.

House laughed, although it sounded more painful than mirthful. "No, I definitely _am_ freaking out. But not because I don't want to be with you."

"Then what is it?"

House considered his words carefully, then finally admitted, "I'm not used...to being touched...by men."

Wilson looked at House in confusion. "And you think _I_ am? You're the first guy I've ever been with, House! Or, tried to be with, anyway...."

House shook his head. "No, no, that's not what I mean. I mean touched...at all."

Wilson thought back, trying to disprove House. He had seen House get massages...but only from women. He had seen House interact intimately with partners and hookers...but only women. He had seen House hug his mother, but not –

Wilson's eyes flew up to House. "I'm not going to hurt you, House."

"I know. I know," House said softly. But it was clear to Wilson now that House _didn't_ know. That Wilson was reminding House of someone that he didn't want near him at all.

"Why are you afraid of men?" he pushed, although he was beginning to think he knew the answer.

House didn't answer or meet Wilson's eyes.

Wilson leaned down and tilted his head to try and catch House's eye. "House...." He thought he knew what to say, but instead faltered. House turned away so that Wilson couldn't see his face.

Sighing, Wilson tried again. "House...we'll take it slow. You tell me what you're ready for, and when. You tell me when something makes you uncomfortable. Okay?"

House still didn't meet Wilson's eyes, but nodded slightly.

Wilson got up slowly, uncertainly. Was this thing over before it had even begun? He wasn't sure if House would ever really open up. "I think we've gone far enough for tonight, don't you? I'm going to turn in. We'll see how things go tomorrow, huh?"

Wilson walked past House, but as he went, he felt his hand being grabbed. House looked up into Wilson's eyes as he interlaced his fingers with Wilson's. "'_Think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course_.' Kalhil Gibran wrote that."

Wilson smiled and squeezed House's hand. He halted his progress towards his bedroom and instead walked around to the other end of the couch, never letting go of House's hand. He sat with House, hands intertwined, and no other part of themselves touching. The two didn't speak. Only when House's eyes finally started closing, and his breathing evened out, did Wilson let go. He gently laid House down horizontally, then went into House's bedroom and dragged the comforter off of the bed, tucking it on top of House. Smoothing House's hair back, Wilson left his best friend on the couch and retired to his own bedroom.

"_If you love...let these be your desires.... To sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips_." -Kalhil Gibran

All Kalhil Gibran quotes are from the "Love" chapter of "The Prophet."


End file.
